With a flicker in her eyes, she found an unopened pack of noodles on the cabinet nearby.
Well, she’d just make do with noodles.
Not too long after, a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. Carefully arranging the two eggs on top of the noodles with chopsticks, Charlotte Thompson carried the bowl out, satisfied with her work.
Lifting her gaze, she started to speak: "You’re out of vegetables. I made you some noodle soup, you..."
Her words stopped abruptly, a flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes as she instinctively stepped lighter.
The man on the chair was leaning slightly back. His warm, tranquil eyes even more relaxed, his breathing regular, an air of leisure added to his profile.
His eyelashes trembled slightly, casting a beautiful shadow across his eyes. The light seeping in from the window landed on his picturesque brow and eyes.
Charlotte sighed gently and placed the bowl of noodles on the table before settling herself on the sofa.
The steam was still coming off the soup. Once it cooled down a bit, she woke Henry Hudson up.
He opened his eyes, a glint of disorientation in them. When he came to his senses, he sat up, gave Charlotte Thompson an apologetic smile and said, "How long was I asleep?"
At that, Charlotte shook her head and pushed the bowl toward him. "Just fifteen minutes or so. Eat while it’s hot, or it’ll get cold." This content belongs to novel(ꜰ)ire.net
Having said that, she stood up from the sofa and pondered for a few seconds before deciding to speak.
"Henry, I’ve got something else to take care of. I’ll get going then."
Henry Hudson paused for a second, subtly managing a soft laugh, then said, "I won’t keep you then. Be safe out there."
Nodding, Charlotte Thompson turned around to leave. As a soft clicking sound of the closing door echoed in the living room, Henry uncontrollably glanced out the window.
Only when he saw Charlotte’s car slowly disappearing outside the apartment did he retract his gaze, his eyes lowered in thought, feeling a void unexpectedly growing in his heart.
On the other side, Charlotte Thompson drove straight to the hospital.
Annie Anne’s health was gradually improving. Aside from occasional bouts of emotional instability and excessive sleep, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.
Walking into the ward, she saw Oliver Hudson gently wiping Annie’s face, the latter staring blankly at nothing.
The room was unusually silent, nobody was speaking.
Charlotte Thompson stood in the doorway, unwilling to break the quietness.
Visibly, Oliver Hudson was no longer the man he used to be. His guilt and love for Annie were plainly visible after months of constant care removed his usual sharp demeanor, leaving only endless patience and tenderness.
Of course, this was only for Annie Anne.
Charlotte hadn’t forgotten the kind of man Oliver Hudson was: a smart businessman who excelled in strategies and calculations, always pursuing maximum gain and minimal loss.
For Annie Anne, he had finally stepped away from this persona.
Now, he seemed just like an everyday husband and father.
A flood of sentiment surged inside Charlotte Thompson, causing her to space out.
Not far away, Oliver Hudson placed the warm towel in the basin and started to carry the basin out. He looked up, catching sight of Charlotte Thompson.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, he nodded slightly with an acknowledging smile and then left the room.
Annie Anne also saw Charlotte, her face revealing evident joy. She quickly made space beside her and gestured Charlotte to join her, her voice filled with excitement, "Charlotte, come sit here."